Chapter seven

Lennon

H e’s waiting for me out back, right at nine, and after the day I’ve had, I’m relieved to see him. But the brief respite doesn't last long.

“Don’t you have to lock up?” He calls from his perch against the bed of my truck.

“Kitchen closes at nine, not the restaurant. A few of the guys will lock up for me tonight,” I reply as I approach him.

When I get close enough for him to see the distress on my face, he tenses, his sexy grin turning serious.

The tears I’ve been fighting all day fill my eyes despite my best attempts to blink them back, the fact they spill out in front of him is almost as bad as the fact they exist at all.

“What’s wrong?” A frown ghosts over his brow.

“Rough day.” My shoulders slump, the weight of trying to stand straight suddenly too much.

“Does your rough day have anything to do with people all over town looking bummed out?”

“You noticed that?”

Most of the customers today were too absorbed in their plates to realize they had half a dozen different servers throughout their meal, based on who was composed enough to work the tables. We were all pretty shaken up with the recent news.

“Kinda hard to miss when literally everyone at the bar looks depressed. I’ve never seen anything like it.” He chews on his lip like he’s running through his memories, searching for one that isn’t there.

I force the emotion from my mind so I can answer. “One of our friends passed today. Plane crash.”

The words are barely out of my mouth before I’m swallowed by his strong arms. I didn’t even see him move, he was just suddenly there, and it’s only when he’s supporting my weight that I realize how close I was to collapsing.

This is far from the first hug I’ve received today, but it’s the first where someone else is comforting me, and after a long day of putting on a brave face… My body sinks into his hold as I wrap my arms around his waist, relinquishing control for the first time in too many years to count.

With that realization comes the tears, something that would normally freak me the fuck out because I don’t rely on anyone to take care of me. Ever. Yet right now, I’m too exhausted to panic. Plus, Axel’s hug feels like the sun in the middle of a moonless night.

“I’m so sorry.” His lips move against my hair. “Were you close?”

“Everyone here is close,” I mumble. “This is where Chase grew up. He worked for me in high school." I take a shuttered breath. "His brother still lives here. They were both supposed to be on the same flight but for some reason Ryder changed plans at the last minute, otherwise we’d have lost him too. I can’t imagine how hard this is for him.” My voice cracks before I can continue, so I give up on trying to speak and let myself get lost in his soothing embrace .

The ache in my chest fades slightly as Axel’s hand rubs up and down my spine, and even though he’s not supposed to be a comforting presence, I'm glad he's here.

“Come on, let’s get you home. Hand me your keys.”

I fish them from the pocket of my cargo-style capris and drop them into his waiting hand. He follows me around to the passenger side and opens the door so I can climb in. The chivalrous deed brings a slight smile to my lips.

“It’s just a few blocks. Make a right out of the lot,” I tell him as he takes the driver’s seat, adjusting it for his slightly longer legs.

“You live a few blocks away and drive to work?” His playful grin tells me he’s trying to cheer me up. It won’t work, though I appreciate the gesture.

“I drove from your place this morning, and you’re more than a few blocks away.”

“So you did,” he says softly as he turns onto the road.

When he pulls up to my house I get out and walk inside without bothering to see if he follows. Somehow, I know he will, despite the fact the evening isn’t going to go the way he planned.

I kick off my shoes the second I’m inside, heading straight for the couch.

Everything afterward is a blur. Sitting down, hugging a pillow, staring at the carpet…

I have no memory of any of it, seeing only a cloudy, unfocused blur until a shadow forces me to look up.

Blinking away the haze, Axel stands above me with a glass of wine and a tender smile on his handsome face.

“I’m assuming you like this since I found it in your cupboard.”

I stare at his figure, dazed and unmoving. He stretches out his arm, though it takes me a few more seconds and another bout of blinking before I take the glass and robotically bring it to my lips, right as a faint thump catches my attention .

“What’s that noise?” Somehow, I manage not to jostle the wine.

“The washer.” Axel takes a seat next to me, slinging an arm over the back of the couch.

“Did I spill something?” I look around for evidence of an accident, though nothing seems out of place.

“No. Your hamper was full.”

“You’re doing my laundry?” I rub my brow, trying to push away the fog. “Why?”

“You said it had to get done.” I see him lift his shoulder from my peripheral.

“I did?”

“Yes. This morning.” He sips from his own glass. “I figured you must’ve forgotten about it.”

“I… yeah.” I give my head a quick shake to clear it. Is this really happening? The guy I’m screwing around with is doing my laundry because I casually mentioned it had to get done?

The air is quiet for a moment as we sip our wine.

“Is this the first person you’ve lost?” Axel sets his glass on the coffee table and leans back against the couch, watching me closely.

“The first who was so young. Have you lost anyone?”

“I’ve seen some pretty bad wrecks in my line of work, some that caused permanent damage, but I haven’t lost anyone. Knock on wood.” He shakes his head and raps his knuckles on my oak coffee table. “I can’t imagine losing a brother.”

“You have siblings?”

“No,” he laughs without any humor. “Dad didn’t stick around long enough.”

Fucking dads . “You don’t know yours? ”

“I know him,” Axel says bitterly. “He comes looking for me when he wants something. I try to make it hard for him to find me by staying mobile.”

My heart sinks in my chest. I know that feeling all too well.

“I do the same with my dad,” I say softly, watching the ruby red liquid swirl in my glass before taking another sip.

He tilts his head to the side as if I’ve spoken another language. “You’re the least mobile person I know. It’s only been a few days, but I can already find you anytime I want.”

His words make me flush, whether from embarrassment or acknowledgement I’m not sure.

“I mean, I make it hard for him to find me by not using social media, not sharing my phone number, stuff like that. Pretty sure he knows I live in Katah Vista, but if he wants to talk to me, he’d have to make the effort to come here or the restaurant. So far, he hasn’t.”

“Your dad’s a gambler and a drunk too?” The corner of Axel’s lip falls, and I'm stricken with an achy chest, again.

“Successful businessman. We were the perfect family until I was in high school, and Dad traded Mom in for a younger model. One that didn’t come with a son who liked skirts as much as pants.

” My mind drifts back to those first few months after he left, when Mom was a basket case, wondering how to support us with no skills or money.

I swore I’d never be in that position, which is why I work so hard to make Murphy’s a success.

That means putting my personal life on the back burner, but so far it’s been worth it.

“He didn’t accept you?” A flash of anger drifts over Axel’s face.

“Lots of people don’t. They can’t wrap their head around me wearing what I like instead of what they think I should.”

“Judgmental idiots. Although to be fair, most people can’t pull off a skirt as well as you do.” The corner of his lip tugs upward, pulling the hint of a smile from my own lips. “What made you start wearing them, if you don’t mind me asking?”

Usually, I get defensive about this question, but there isn’t an undercurrent of disapproval in Axel’s tone, so I don’t mind answering. “I lost a bet. Jokes on my friend though. Once I put it on, I realized it was pretty comfortable. Plus, I have nice legs.”

“Yes, you do.” Axel’s gaze drifts to them a brief second before they settle back on my face.

“Anyhow, between me experimenting with fashion, which turned into me realizing I was pan, and my mom aging gracefully, my dad’s fragile ego couldn’t handle that we didn’t resemble the trophy family he always wanted. So, he left.”

“That sounds just as bad as my dad chasing after me for money.”

I mull that over as I chew on my lip. “Worse, I think. At least you never learned to count on your dad. I thought mine hung the moon up until he left. Not that you didn’t suffer, too, though.”

Axel’s finger traces along my shoulder, not in a sexual way but a soothing brush of comfort. Reminding me he’s here—for me. “I get it. Your dad had a lot further to fall than mine did, since mine started at the bottom.”

“Yeah.” I offer a weak smile, relieved he took my comments as a logical observation instead of a competition to see who had the shittier dad.

“Dad’s suck.” His hand leaves my shoulder to run his fingers through my hair, and I welcome the tingle it brings.

“Ours do.”

“Jace’s dad is cool. My cameraman.” He elaborates when I furrow my brow. “And my best friend. His dad acts more like my father than mine ever has. ”

“Then you know what a good dad can be like.” I’m actually happy for him. I may hate what my dad did, hate the man himself even, but for a time he was a good man that gave me a good childhood, and I’m glad Axel got to experience something like that with his friend’s father.

“I do, yeah. So, you said everyone is close here? They all knew your friend?”